Tim McGraw
by fashiongirl97
Summary: Pre-series 3. Jenny is back in DC, and this sparks those little memories, niggles and hopes in the back of her mind. Maybe, hopefully, just...possibly he thinks about her, remembers the love, their love, their past. Just...maybe...  Songfic to Taylor swif


_Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or Taylor Swift_

_Song: Tim McGraw by Taylor Swift_

_**He said the way my blue eyes shined,  
>Put those Georgia stars to shame that night,<br>I said that's a lie,**_

She, Jennifer Shepard, could remember the way his blue eyes would shine at night, twinkle with happiness and love. He'd always say it was her eyes that put those Georgia stars to shame; he'd sit and look in her eyes whilst she returned the favour. Yet every time he'd say it was her eyes, she'd reply with the same thing every single time: _'that's a lie'_.

_**When you think of Tim McGraw,  
>I hope you think of my favourite song,<br>The one we danced to all night long,  
>The moon like a spotlight on the lake.<strong>_

Every time she heard Tim McGraw, memories came flooding back. Memories of Paris, of them; when they'd just dance the night away whilst Tim McGraw would play on the portable radio they carried. The image of the moon reflecting on the Saine was an image plastered in her mind. One she never wished to forget. The moon to them was their spotlight. How she wished when he heard Tim McGraw he thought of her.

_**When you think happiness,  
>I hope you think that little black dress,<br>Think of my head on your chest,  
>And my old faded blue jeans,<strong>_

The little black dress still had a place in her wardrobe, not that she wore it. It was Jethro's dress; she wore it for no one else. The expression that he'd worn when he had first seen her in it, she had thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Every night she'd fall asleep with her head on his chest. She'd fall asleep happy, and awaken to see a smile on his face, and then there were those jeans. The old faded blue jeans that she had claimed as her own. She'd had to wear a belt, and even with that they were way too big, but they gave her a strange sense of comfort. She still had them. Never had Jen given them back, and never had he asked for them either.

_**When you think of Tim McGraw…  
>I hope you think of me.<strong>_

Jenny hoped he thought of her. She hoped certain things, songs, Tim McGraw, she hoped that they triggered memories.

_**September saw a month of tears,  
>And thanking god that you weren't here to see me like that,<strong>_

The September that followed her departure was awful. It had begun with everything reminding her of him, it was full of regret, and enough tears to sink a ship. Then her father died, supposedly committed suicide, and that broke her. Thank god he wasn't there to see her broken; because she wanted him to see her as strong, not how she was then.

_**But in a box beneath my bed is a letter that you never read,  
>From three summers back.<strong>_

Ever since she left, Jenny had written numerous letters to Jethro, apologising, telling him she'd been wrong, that she still loved him. She'd written them, never sent, never even come close to sending. Apart from one, three years ago, whilst in Cairo. She'd had a tough time: nearly died. At that time, then she'd wanted him back. The letter she'd written in Cairo, she had been mere minutes away from sending.

_**It's hard not to find it all a little bitter sweet,  
>And looking back it's nice to believe when you think of Tim McGraw,<br>I hope you think my favourite song,  
>The one we danced to all night long,<br>The moon like a spotlight on the lake,  
>When you think happiness,<br>I hope you think that little black dress,  
>Think of my head on your chest,<br>And my old faded blue jeans,  
>When you think Tim McGraw …<br>I hope you think of me.**_

When she looked back on it all, from her first case to Marseilles, from London to Paris, one thing remains in her heart: hope. Hope, belief that he thinks of her. Even if it's just once a year. She hopes and believes.

_**And I'm back here for the very first time since then,**_

Time now had decided to reunite them, yet this time turn the tables. She was now the boss, him under her.

_**I'm standing on your street,**_

Hoping you won't see me, because the pain would be too much.

_**And there's a letter left on your doorstep,  
>And the first thing that you'll read…<br>When you think of Tim McGraw,  
>I hope you think my favourite song,<br>Someday you'll turn your radio on,  
>I hope it takes you back to that place,<strong>_

She'd left that letter there only moments ago, but nerves filled her. She'd started this whole thing nearly a decade ago, now it was time to end it, once more with a letter.

_**I hope you think of me… **_

_Hope you enjoyed!_

_Please review._

_Any song suggestions are more than welcome, if you suggest a song I'll dedicate the chapter to you, so request if you want. _

_xXx_


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